


Training hair

by Laura_Sinele



Series: Fictober 2019 drabbles [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Gen, Hair, I'm Bad At Tagging, Knifeplay, Oh look, Pre-Slash, Sassy Armitage Hux, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Unresolved Sexual Tension, implied - Freeform, kind of, there's a tag for it, this is basically a lot of sass and unresolved sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Sinele/pseuds/Laura_Sinele
Summary: The Supreme Leader appears unanounced while General Hux was wielding a knife. An awkward situation ensues.





	Training hair

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Fictober19 prompt #6: "I am aware, ¿your point?".

General Hux strutted along the hallway surrounded by petty officers holding datapads and waiting their turns to gather his attention. The standard work cycle had proved too short to run the First Order's fleet while following the new short-sighted and ill-tempered Supreme Leader's orders. "Find them, kill them", nothing was enough until this was done. It fell under Hux's duties to keep them all alive in the process and, of course, convincing the Supreme Leader in his blind rage of the necessity of it.

Kylo Ren hadn't left his quarters for three cycles after a heated argument with the general during their daily briefing. Hux still marvelled at the fact that he was still alive and well, but it seemed the Supreme Leader had obliged to Hux's request to not being force-handled or hurt anymore, under threat of mutiny. This circumstance had allowed Hux to focus all the efforts in maintenance, logistics and long-term tactics, setting aside the chase of a handful of rebels without ships, without weapons, and without purpose, for that matter.

Arrived at his quarters door, rising his palm was enough to dissolve the cloud of buzzing subalterns surrounding him. He pressed his palm to the sensor, entered the code and, only when the door slid shut behind him, he let out a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders just slightly, as he never truly rested, permanently standing at attention.

His routine was as severe as his appearance suggested, even when it came to his resting cycle, a portion of which was inevitably assigned to keep up to date with messages and paperwork related to the Order. When he was finished, he allowed himself to have a frugal snack while listening to some music and letting his thoughts wander, eyes set on the space void shown through his viewport.

Before dinner, more messages, and bedtime, there was a time assigned to physical training. It was rare for a high ranking officer as himself to engage in close combat, but beyond the need to exercise while living in low gravity, Hux liked to keep in shape, with his painfully acquired abilities well honed.

His personal console ran for him his usual training program: target practice, strength and flexibility, cardio and, Hux's favorite part of the day: knife or fist fight.

Today it was knife for the fifth time in a row, meaning it was going to be five times harder than the first day. He stripped down to his jodhpurs, boots and black tank top, held his monomolecular blade and braced for whatever the console had in store for him. After ten minutes of constant fight and three indisputable victories, Hux heard his door slide open at his back. Naturally, the entry being overridden, Hux responded violently to the invasion of his private quarters. In a fraction of a second he turned, already sending his blade soaring to the average height of a human heart, and the sitting room was flooded by the red light signaling the holo-spar had hit him lethally.

The door slided closed behind the Supreme Leader, who was holding Hux’s blade middair with the Force at scarcely an arm’s length of his chest. What caught the General’s attention, though, was the puzzled expression in Kylo Ren’s face. He dropped his combat stance and cocked his head in curiosity. The blade fell to the floor, clattering.

“Supreme Leader”.

“General”.

Silence ensued, which the adrenaline-intoxicated General only stood for a few beats.

“May I ask about the motives of your… visit, Supreme Leader?”. He caught himself in time before saying “intrusion”. Kylo Ren, control on his features regained, took a moment to answer.

“The order’s ruling. Of course”.

“Of course”, said Hux, managing to water down the vitriol, and pointing to an armchair for the Supreme Leader to sit. Ren, however, stayed where he stood.

“Is there any problem, Supreme Leader?”, asked Hux, starting to lose his patience already, even after three cycles completely free from the emotional outbursts and crisis that deadly manchild continuously suffered.

“Your hair”, said Ren, not managing to cover completely his astonishment with his characteristic monotonous drawl. “It is unkempt”.

“I am aware, ¿your point?”, said Hux racking his fingers through his unusually disarranged hair.

Kylo Ren tensed and seemed about to take his leave.

“I’ll leave you to your training then. I apologise for interrupting”.

That could have been it, but maybe his state of exhilaration after exercising betrayed Hux, because he let out a single laugh that made the Supreme Leader turn back on his tracks and stare at him with a look that stated the General better had an explanation for what had just happened.

“You apologise for interrupting me, Ren? You terrorise my army, you destroy my equipment, you beat me up in front of my subordinates, you threaten my life and now, precisely now is when you decide to apologise?! If I had known it would take only a knife blindly thrown at you to make you apologise I would have done so a long while ago!”

Ren remained silent long enough for Hux to regret his outburst, but he’d be damned if he showed any sign of it. The Supreme Leader then kneeled down slowly, picked up the monomolecular blade and stood, weighing it in his hand, eyes set on the floor in contemplation. He looked up and locked eyes with Hux, who successfully avoided flinching at the chill that ran down his spine. That was a look he had never seen before in Kylo Ren’s face, which he believed only capable of absolute apathy, fear of Snoke, or incendiary wrath. It was focused and, somehow, placid.

Ren stood right in front of him, not much more than an inch apart, the inch of height he had over Hux suddenly feeling disproportionately big. He took Hux’s wrist in his ungloved hand, put the mononuclear blade in it and closed Hux’s finger’s around the handle, never breaking eye contact.

“The motive of my… _invasion_… was to tell you that I will see you tomorrow morning to resume our daily briefings, and that I hope you will find me in a new, much more cooperative disposition. Have a good sleep, General”.

Hux stood there, fist clenched around his blade, watching how Kylo Ren gave him his back after returning him his knife, and left the quarters. Only when the door slid shut did he realise his heart was beating at his throat. Out of nowhere, a loud thought filled his mind: the occurrence of not gelling his hair back from now on. 


End file.
